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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701117">Hiding Behind the Gray</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magdalane/pseuds/Magdalane'>Magdalane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bank Robbery, F/M, Hacker Kylo Ren, I can't believe I used the word wanton, Leather gloves, She's Up For Anything Tho, Voyeurism, bank vault sex is a thing now, waitress Rey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magdalane/pseuds/Magdalane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He needed a partner, just for one job, just for one night. He should have known when he saw her at that diner and asked her if she wanted to make a little extra cash, she was the kind of thing he'd need over and over again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. WORMHOLE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Within seconds, the connection linking him to the server controlling the First Order ATMs had been in place. He didn’t feel guilty about it; that’s what a company𑁋a financial institution at that𑁋 gets for not uniformly updating their software and using yesterday’s operating system, one that patches stopped being released for years ago. It was an insult to injury that it was the type of company that people expect to be trustworthy. Billions of dollars sat before him, now that he’d sent a Trojan in, since he had access to far more than just the trivial amounts of money in the ATMs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t really there just for blatant theft. He didn’t need one big thrill and heist and then what? He’s set for life with nothing to do? No, he was more a man on a mission. He used his skills to make enough to be comfortable without the soul-destroying monotony of a day job, and without </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much</span>
  </em>
  <span> criminal activity. Stay untraceable, work small. This wasn’t a fucking heist movie after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d take a little from one ATM, because they deserved it, and it would spur them on to hire him, or maybe some other freelance security professional or company to do a penetration test, to secure their network the right way. In the end, he was protecting the bank and their clients. He just had… his own way of going about it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d hired someone to visit the ATM precisely when he instructed on the date and time he’d told her. She’d collect the money, stay nondescript, and get a cut. His goal had been to get access to at least one ATM, but he’d hit the mother lode when he logged onto an employee’s computer only to find that the master password for the server that controlled </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>the ATM’s lived in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>word document.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fucking amateur hour, even for most companies. It was amazing </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> online theft and ransoming didn’t happen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was tempting to expand the haul to the rest of the ATMs. But that would mean hiring more people, hitting them all at once. It would be too risky to hit several in one night with the same girl. So he’d take the one, not get greedy, and offer his day time services to this bank in a few weeks. If they weren’t serious yet, they would be when he hit them with some ransomware. He’d wait a few weeks to begin that attack, if it came to it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>People thought the thrill was only in the actual heist. There was thrill in waiting, catching the prey, as well. And then playing them the entire time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was almost time. 3 a.m. on a Tuesday night, after the ATM he’d chosen had been restocked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d approached her𑁋Rey𑁋 at the 24-hour diner she worked at  just a week ago. He chose her because something about her seemed a bit like a hustler, like him. And yet, she looked like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be the girl next door if you dressed her up right. He wouldn’t mind dressing her up to his exact specifications, but that was out of the scope of this job.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She seemed tough, and like she had street smarts, but didn’t quite look that part. It was exactly the kind of deception that worked for a job like this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d gone in every night for a few weeks, more often since she’d been hired to study her while he pretended to be consumed in his laptop, sipping on surprisingly decent coffee. He’d noticed it had improved since she worked there, actually. He had to make sure his gut instinct was right. One didn’t just go up to any person and propose they commit a felony with you. Getting into bed with the wrong person could cost you everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She batted away the late night drunks that hit on her with a practiced ease, a fire behind those good girl looks that he thought showed potential. She never quit moving, even when it was slow. She caught him looking at her more than once, which meant she was observant, because most people seemed to naturally leave him be.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And nobody worked the graveyard shift at a diner if they didn’t have to. She yawned when no one was looking, no one except for him, so his assumption that she worked during the day as well was probably correct.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d be perfect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat lost in those thoughts long enough, staring at his setup of four monitors, that now it definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched her approach through the ATM’s security cameras. He’d gained access to the cameras in the main branch as well. People really had no idea just how often they were filmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked like he’d told her to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No dark hoodie, no mask, nothing that screamed “I’m here to do crime in the middle of the night.” He’d be erasing the camera footage anyway, so he’d told her it was far more important, on the off chance a cop </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> survey the area and watch her, that she looked innocent. Naive. Like a young college girl dumb enough to take money out of an ATM in the middle of the night. He’d chosen one in an area where he didn’t see any too many other cameras or much patrolling in the few weeks he’d observed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walked up, playing the part </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfectly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Confident, not looking over her shoulders too much, she didn’t appear anxious at all. Yoga pants and hoodie, but not a black one zipped up with the hood on. A sporty looking number, that made it seem like she’d tugged it on for her late night errands to ward off the fall chill. Should a cop ask her what she was doing, her plan was to say she had some family emergency and needed the cash first thing in the morning. To smile, and thank them for their looking out for little ole her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hit the command, and thousands of dollars began dispensing into her waiting hand. The tiniest bit of surprise that it worked as he’d said it would registered on her face, but instead of indulging in it, her eyes flashed up to the camera for a millisecond, and she smiled and </span>
  <em>
    <span>winked </span>
  </em>
  <span>at him through the camera. She fucking winked. Oh, he liked this girl. She didn’t seem the tiniest bit conflicted, not now, and not when he’d told her he was a security professional in need of a hire for a side job, and the pay would be significant for essentially an hour’s worth of her time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes stayed on the money after that, and she grabbed it in intervals. She placed some in her bag. She stuffed another segment inside her hoodie. And yet another… somewhere down the front of her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What did she think? Someone would run up and take the money by grabbing her bag? Well, okay, he hadn’t thought of that, but he supposed it made a certain amount of sense. He supposed she </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>be robbed, looking innocent and naive on purpose at an ATM in the middle of the night. She stuffed the rest in her bag and turned without looking at him through the camera again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waited for her to arrive at their designated meeting location, which happened to be his apartment. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing to let her know where he lived, but it avoided the need to find a location to meet that wasn’t on any CCTV cameras in the city. Even meeting somewhere in a safe location could be risky enough if you factored in that a determined investigator could follow their license plates through various cameras if they really wanted to, because meeting someone in the middle of the night was suspect. Meeting the next day, even at her job, might make more sense, but the sooner the cash was in his hands and not hers, the better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This way, in the unlikely event anyone ever did trace illicit activities back to him, he’d say merely met this girl at the diner she worked at, a place he frequented often, verifiable by anyone else that worked there and saw him regularly, as well as CCTV on that street. He asked her out. She came over for a rendezvous. It was plausible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d recounted to her this story when she expressed surprise that she’d be dropping the cash off to him in person at his home. A light blush colored her cheeks, and then she narrowed her eyes and asked him how she guaranteed </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> safety with this plan? How could she possibly know she wasn’t going to deliver the money and then be shorted, assaulted or made to disappear entirely? There’d be no one looking for her; she was at least partially at risk for that reason. She didn’t volunteer that she was a broke college student with no family to fall back on, and only similarly overworked roommates to eventually wonder if she’d been home in a few days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d told her she didn’t know that anymore than he knew if she’d run with the full amount of money and never look back, although he warned her that ATM hits weren’t exactly windfalls to run away with. He was expecting $20,000 tops, and likely only half of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d offered her the alternative of meeting at the diner or at her house, but after a short moment of consideration, she’d said no. She’d never go to the diner on her night off, which would be even more suspicious and a co-worker could innocently mention that fact to an investigator, if it came to it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she told him she’d meet him at his place, and if he tried to kill her he’d regret it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d looked over her frame and snorted and told her that wasn’t at all the type of crime he found appealing, and that crimes of passion or premeditated violence were for the weak. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was an odd sort of tension mixed with trust between them, though they hardly knew each other. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A light rap on the door alerted him that she’d arrived, and if he wasn’t so wrapped up in screwing over this bank he’d have seen it on his own closed-circuit security cameras.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was 3:45 now, and when he opened the door she waltzed in as if this was something she did every day, plopping down on his couch and leaning back comfortably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any snacks? It’s usually this time of night I get a snack at the diner,” she said, clutching the strap of her bag that rested diagonally across her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… what?” He swept his longish black hair back from his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of all the things he expected to come out of her mouth, it wasn’t that. And it wasn’t often he didn’t know what to say. He was vaguely drawn to running to his kitchen and seeing what could be perceived as snack-like, but he wasn’t one to be pulled off of his mission.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about we see how much money you pulled before you get comfortable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m already comfortable, but fine,” she answered, an exaggerated sigh passing her lips. She pulled the bag off of her and set it on the sleek glass coffee table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is this all?” he asked, settling down next to her and reaching for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I saw you… stash the money in various safe locations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and once I was safely in a locked car I put it all in one place,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he muttered. “Obviously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to search me, stud.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s… quite alright.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pair set to counting the money quietly, and double checking it automatically, as if they had any reason to be this in sync.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, here’s your ten percent,” Ben said, breaking the silence. “Not quite $2000, but not bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey took it from him silently, stashing it in her bag again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a pleasure working with you,” she said formally, a mischievous grin on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… uh, same to you,” he answered, unsure of what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared at him expectantly, but the room remained silent a moment longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then,” she said finally, realizing he wasn’t going to invite her to stay or ask her to partner with him again. She pushed away the twinge of disappointment and stood up, grabbing her bag. She’d take her money and run. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the job, Kylo. I’ll see you around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A week passed, and she noticed the tall, broad man enter her diner out of the corner of her eye, his hair mostly hidden beneath a dark grey beanie, ignoring how her heart sped up at what his presence might mean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a slow night and he eased into a seat at the counter right in front of her, looking pensive but not out of place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She poured him a cup of coffee without asking, his eyes traveling down from her eyes to her lips to her chest, settling on the counter before speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got another freelance job for you, similar to the last. Next week. Same deal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She set the coffee pot down behind her and turned back around, pulling out her order pad as if she was getting ready to write something down, as if her heart wasn’t pounding at his return and his intense gaze and the thought of more much needed cash all at once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said it would be a one time gig.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> said that, he thought, and if he was as smart as he’d always thought he was, it would be. Maintaining a legitimate daytime business like he did, you didn’t slip up. You didn’t get greedy. You didn’t milk your client for all they were worth in one go, or at all. You didn’t make repeat hits and make it easier for a trail to be found. You didn’t get caught.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he’d been dying to see her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dying.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He told himself it was because she seemed so in need of some extra money. He told himself it was because she seemed like she worked hard, and deserved it. He told himself it was because when he had done intel on her he’d found she was working her way through college with no help from anybody, with no family to speak of, and loans to pay, and this was just his altruism at play.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He told himself that so that he could ignore that it was mostly just because he wanted her in his home again, sitting on his couch, looking at him innocently. He wanted to fuck the coy, innocent little look she had going right out of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would tell himself anything that didn’t make him have to admit what he was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lonely. Perfectly content with the odd life he’d carved out for himself, but devastatingly lonely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And so, here he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Proposing she help him steal from the same client twice, another ATM hit, more deleted footage. It would be fine. He’d arranged a meeting with someone at the bank to discuss properly securing their systems, but that wasn’t until next week. This second hit would help them see the needed changes, changes they’d be paying for him to make anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was tomorrow night, or not at all, and so here he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did say that. But the opportunity presented itself. Are you free tomorrow night, same time?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hazel eyes sparkled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am. And I’ve got you down for a side order of fries? The usual?” There seemed to be meaning behind her use of the word ‘usual’, as if to tell him that she’d noticed things about him too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he said simply, and she turned to place his ticket at the order window, leaning over a bit farther than necessary to call out to the cook. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he paid his bill, he placed an inconspicuous piece of paper with an address and time𑁋 all she needed to know𑁋 into her hand.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. DEADLOCK</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The hit at the second ATM went as easily as the first, Rey showing up at Ben’s apartment and breezing in as she had the first time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made less money, but her cut was still nearly as much as she’d make working for an entire month. It would go far for her. She knew she needed to pay off her student loans, or use it for some maintenance on her shitty car, or to pay off a credit card that was hanging over her head, but she’d held onto what she’d made so far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anxious elatement at having </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>much extra won over practicality, so she’d decided it was time to have a savings account. A savings account being the cheapest fireproof locking box she could find, stashed under her bed, behind a storage box of extra blankets. She didn’t want large amounts of cash in her accounts for when she applied for financial aid, and she’d neglected to ask Kylo if she needed to wait for some period of time before spending the cash to safeguard against being tracked. She didn’t think so; the serial numbers on the bills they’d taken wouldn’t have been able to be marked as stolen from a bank before it happened. She shook her head at her own naivete, wondering how she could so easily accept an opportunity to commit  felony from a tall, dark, handsome stranger and think it through after.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Either way, this much money made her shoulders relax in a way she didn’t think had ever happened. She’d been desperately happy when he’d materialized at her diner offering her a second gig, and she hoped at the time that she hid it well. He was calm, measured, almost... severely collected, and yet, he’d chosen her chaotic and messy ass to help him. She was unsure what he’d seen that made him approach her, but she’d try her damndest to seem like a good choice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> this ability to breathe easier more than she’d even realized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So now, sitting on his couch again, in this room that </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> look like it was all furnished from different garage sales and craigslists ads, she didn’t want to leave. She was almost high from the thrill of it, unwilling to let the night end as quickly as it had last time. She couldn’t deny that while she was lucky to have stumbled into the money she was making, she was also ridiculously attracted to the mysterious man seated next to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It couldn’t hurt to feel him out, could it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaned back against the cushions, having stashed her cut in her utilitarian army green messenger bag again, and set it aside. He was bent forward, quickly stacking the counted money on the coffee table into orderly columns, the expanse of his back deliciously visible as his muscles moved beneath a tight black shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m free for the rest of the night, Kylo. If you want me to stay,” she offered. He turned his entire torso around, studying her, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite place. Surprise? Intrigue? Interest? Absolute and utter boredom? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lifted her hand to run her knuckles down his bicep. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hoped she wasn’t ruining this. She couldn’t tell from his dark eyes what he was thinking at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he looked… contemplative.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what would you like to stay for? Job’s done,” he said brusquely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, maybe a little fun? Is that something you ever have?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, then tell me what might you like to do if I stayed? And I’ll tell you if that sounds like what I’m thinking,” she said lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallowed, and leaned back so he was facing her more comfortably. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not so sure we’d be talking about the same things.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She moved forward, their lips inches apart, and whispered, “I think we are. I can feel it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, expecting her to kiss him perhaps, but she pulled back swiftly, startling him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, tell me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His Adam's apple bobbed again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could just show you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve asked for what I want. Give me that, and then we’ll see what happens.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure what she was playing at, because while she was demanding he be more vocal about his attraction to her, she was combusting inside. She uncrossed her legs and swept them underneath her. For some reason she needed to hear this man say it. She couldn’t play guessing games. She wasn’t good at it. And somehow, she sensed he would never make the first move. He exuded a general air of confidence in everything else he did; but not in this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew deep down that he’d give her </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>probably if she asked for it. His vulnerability and lack of practice told him to pull back; worried she’d run away if he said what he wanted to say, but here she was, telling him to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was nervous. It was an unsettling feeling. Most people didn’t have the capacity to make him nervous, him being used to holding the upper hand in just about any situation. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> made him nervous, because she represented something he wanted badly; something he didn’t bother investing any time in getting, for that matter. And she was going from zero to one hundred, daring him to keep up with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… if I could have you stay here tonight, and do anything I wanted just for fun? You definitely wouldn’t have on any clothes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” she said, feigning indifference with a wave of her hand, but the confirmation of her desires steeled his resolve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want… I want you to go down on me then. On the couch.” He felt like a dirty old man, all of a sudden. She was so youthful; so out of his league.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what else? You haven’t been thinking about you and me? No detailed fantasies? I’ve been thinking about you, ever since you made me leave unsatisfied last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was unreal, he thought. This kind of thing didn’t happen to him, and definitely not with someone like her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then tell me what you’ve thought about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve thought about what I said. And maybe I’ve thought about bending you over, taking you from behind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She suppressed a giggle, because she didn’t want to be mean. He clearly didn’t do this very often, but it was endearing, on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really have no idea how sexy you are, do you?” she whispered. “Why are you so nervous?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t say anything, so she swung her leg around him and straddled him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, so we’ll work on the build up and dirty talk next time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kissed him then; slow at first, testing the waters, tasting him for the first time. His lips were warm and soft, and pliant beneath her. After a minute, he gently, almost timidly, rested his hands on her hips, even as she deepened their kisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rested one hand over his, grabbing it and pulling it to her chest instead, encouraging him. She couldn’t get enough, soon enough, fast enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning it was nearly noon when they woke, Rey’s body draped across the soft sheets, her hair loose against the steel gray. Her memories of the night before surfaced and she recalled the demand to call him Ben whispered in her ear as he had thrust inside her from on top. She had been close, a breathy moaned 'Kylo' slipping out. It had been a surprisingly intimate moment for what she thought was closer to a one-night stand than anything else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you really want me to call you Ben? Or is it Kylo again now?” she asked, tracing lines between the freckles across his chest with her fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew it was probably odd for two people acquainted for the reasons they were to be revealing more details about their lives than necessary, but to be fair, he knew far more about her than she did about him, even if it wasn’t much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His pale cheeks turned almost imperceptibly more pink, but still, she noticed. She wondered if she would continue to notice literally everything about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Ben. It’s not a big deal, Kylo is just my alias.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wasn't it, though, a big deal? Knowing either one wasn’t, but both?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stretched, feeling like a cat arching her back, teasing him on purpose, and if the expression on his face was any indication he appreciated the view. She rolled over onto her stomach, crossing her ankles and swinging them upwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me more about what you do. I want to know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There isn’t much else to tell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me more about why we are breaking into banks when you seem to have a decent set up here, a decent day job?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just because I can, I guess. It’s not like I break into banks only, but usually the people on top deserve it. In the end, I’m helping out the people they victimize with their shitty security.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s just a matter of time before someone like me comes along with no intentions of helping them secure anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She frowned, trying to parse through his reasoning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So why this bank?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was almost uneasy at her perceptiveness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you teach me how to do what you do? I’m a programmer. Surely I can pick up some of your skills?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you are a programmer, you definitely need a teacher,” he snorted, rolling onto his back from where he’d been propped up on his elbow looking at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So.... teach me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked up at her thoughtfully, the sun coming through the windows and playing on her face. He could get used to this, he thought, and that felt discomforting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrated intrusively from where it sat on his nightstand, and he groaned but reached a long arm over to look at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why does my mother have to call this early in the morning?” he muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s 11:36.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he said, a slight smirk on his face, before swiping his finger across his phone to answer the call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, mother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey listened unabashedly to the one sided conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. No, don’t worry. I’ll check it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Another donation? From the same anonymous giver? Just leave it, mom. Have the accountant handle it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll be by your office later. ‘Bye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, Kylo-Ben has a mom, with an office?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most people have mothers. With workplaces.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An expression flitted across her face, but she smoothed it over, lifting her body up and swinging her leg over him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got an hour before my first class. Shall we use our time wisely, again?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled up at her, genuinely, and she found she liked the softer look on his angular face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like doing that, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Being on top.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lifted his hands to her breasts by way of answer, and ground her hips against him until his body responded the way she had hoped.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was well into the next week before Rey heard from him again. Her school and work schedule didn’t leave her much time to dwell on it, but the smile that lit up her face as she read the text while walking between classes reflected a mixture of relief and excitement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll teach you some basic hacking tools if you are free tonight.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What time? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She tapped out quickly, not caring that she answered him instantly, as if she had been waiting to hear from him, because she had.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>7.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll see you then.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*****</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked intently at the computer screen, reading a line of text created by something Kylo had set up with a tool called Metasploit. She could feel the heat from his body as he leaned over her shoulder, one arm propped up against his desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See, right there?” He pointed to the screen. “This is why a significant amount of what hackers do is just penetration testing to exploit vulnerabilities that are already present in software or networks. The opportunity is just sitting there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good hackers or bad hackers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted. “Both, if there’s a difference. It’s all gray to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she knew it, they’d been at it for two hours and she rolled her neck around to release the tension.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How did you learn all this?” She asked, standing up to stretch her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boredom? No other direction in life? Being shit at school and not wanting to go to college? Enjoying disappointing my parents? Take your pick. Whichever works.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Self taught, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hackers usually are,” he replied, sitting down at his seat to close out the tools they’d been using.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“College was a must for me. I needed a way out of where I was, and it turned out I was good at coding. I took classes in high school, and tried to get scholarships, but mostly I just got small grants here and there,” Rey supplied. She wasn’t sure why. “I’m trying to pay off loans and stuff now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your parents can’t help? What were you getting out of? Some shitty small town?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snorted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wish. And no, no parents. Just a foster dad who would have been happy for me to work at his junkyard for as little as I would accept once I turned 18. I left and never looked back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart squeezed in her chest. What the hell? Why not tell him everything?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked at him then, meeting his eyes when he spun around to look at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, uh, this money means a lot to me, Kylo-Ben. My foster dad even took out credit cards in my name when I was 16. I have debt I didn’t even have the joy of accruing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow. What a winner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She kicked at the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Anyway, every little bit helps. I’m going to make a deal with the company to do a lump sum to clear my credit, but it still sucks. It’s not fair that what he did was legal because he asked me to sign things that I didn’t understand at the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His face was indecipherable at this bit of information, and an uncomfortable silence followed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, anyway, that’s uh… why I want to learn anything I can. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure. Anytime. Let’s do it again next week.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, Ben. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at her standing there, choosing to interpret her thanks as being about his teaching her a new skill set, and not inviting her into things she could get arrested for. He felt little guilt at what he did, because he always made up for it, but his chest tightened as he realized he’d invited someone so deserving of a decent break in life into something so risky. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Still flying by the seat of my pants on this one, barely even editing-- this is new for me, I hope it's not a disaster lol. I know where they are going to end up tho.</p><p>Fun fact: my dad took out credit cards on both of my sisters and ruined their credit. I somehow escaped it-- likely b/c he didn't have my SSN off hand. Stellar move, dad.</p><p>Twitter: https://twitter.com/TheVintageReylo</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ben and Rey throw caution to the wind. Tag for voyeurism kink?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“How much do you owe because of Plutt?” he asked, startling her. They hadn’t spoken about it in weeks, not since she’d mentioned it just briefly. He’d stuck to his assertion that they couldn’t hit the ATMs of the bank a third time. To her it seemed like easy money, and nothing bad had happened so far, but she’d been more than willing to see him once a week for her hacker 101 lessons. It provided her a chance to learn something she found genuinely fascinating while admiring his bulky musculature and routinely propositioning him after. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There hadn’t been much in her life that excited her, but he did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wouldn’t complain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighed at the question about her father-figure-of-the-year, one that sent off alarm bells at how real their relationship, if you could call it that, had the potential to become. Stumbling into a new routine with him had been so natural𑁋 too natural. At least they largely left off personal details at their weekly meetings, making her wonder how long he’d wanted to ask. She was here for the quick fucks and the lessons and the money, but she wasn’t too trusting of wanting anything else, anything that felt too good to be true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thousands,” she stated shortly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How much could one person wrack up in your name on a credit card?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s actually more than one. It’s around $30,000. I haven’t made enough yet from the ATMs to pay it off. But I suppose I’m getting there. And I have my student loans after that to pay for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you’ve used the money for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t actually used it for anything yet, though I probably should… I just…,” she paused, ruminating over her feelings. “For right now I’ve just been holding on to it. It makes me feel safer, having it. It’s silly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned back towards the monitor he’d been looking at with a glare, muttering, “It’s not silly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They went back to focusing on what he’d been teaching her𑁋 how to use password crackers to gain access to an employee’s account, rather than having to exploit a vulnerability in the software the company was using.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone rang, disrupting the silence. At some point she’d ended up sitting on his thigh, leaning into the desk and squinting at the screens to take over control of the mouse and keyboard. He didn’t mind. He didn’t even care if his whole leg fell asleep, for as long as she’d been sitting on him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moved his hand from where it had been resting on her hip, his fingers long enough to wrap around to her belly button, and she missed the warmth against her skin as he reached for his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A groan of annoyance slipped from him after he glanced at it, but he decided to answer and she had no choice but to listen in on the one sided conversation, his voice smooth behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Mother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow, that asshole is still bothering you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll see you then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He placed the phone back on his desk and sighed. She waited for him to elaborate, even though she’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> been thinking about how they shouldn’t elaborate much on their lives.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay?” she ventured, never stopping maneuvering the mouse as she worked with the programs they had running.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A beat passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was my mother.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey couldn’t help a small giggle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes. You did say ‘Hello Mother’,” she said, mimicking his deeply formal way of speaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He placed his hand back on her hip, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her lower back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She just needs help with her IT work. That’s typically why she calls.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey wasn’t sure having a parent need you for help was exactly the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing in the world, but since he seemed perpetually irritated when she called, and this was at least the third time Rey had witnessed a call in the limited time she spent with him, she didn’t say that thought out loud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What work does she do that she needs IT help?” she asked instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaned forward, his long arm stretched all the way to the monitor he had his demonstration pulled up on, and she felt the heat at her back and his breath near her neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, you got one,” he said, his voice almost excited, pointing to an unencrypted password. “Now, let me show you something else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He typed a website into the browser, both arms caging her in now, and text boxes to enter usernames popped up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The username for the employee email they’d cracked showed up as used in instagram, yelp, a few websites Rey was less familiar with, and an email server.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, let’s see if Mr. Abrams here is unsophisticated enough to use the same password we just cracked across multiple platforms...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kept clicking and typing intently, and a minute later they’d gained access to the person’s email and social media.  She watched his huge hands tap the keyboard with a precision that fingers that large didn’t have any right to have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Focus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she scolded herself, and Ben remained oblivious, as he tended to be when he was working.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See? See how easily I could probably find out credit card information? But not even from skimming his information from a physical card reader, which some thieves do, or from intercepting the packets of information as they are sent to a website he’s buying from. Just from good old lazy end user malfunction,” he laughed, almost to himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In this day and age, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> should be silly enough to use the same passwords and usernames for their work emails, accounts, socials. It’s funny how easy it can be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, but isn’t that just common knowledge at this point?” Rey mused, turning to look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is. And yet, here we are.” He made a flourish at the screen Rey stared at, the stranger’s account pulled up on the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How much access do you gain to people’s personal information this way?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t really answer that because I don’t go after individuals. They should know better, but I have no interest in exploiting people. Just companies,” he said, and winked at her. “In theory, you can gain a lot, but it does take time. It’s like… shady investigative work. You might not find anything of use, or you might. Depends on the day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt the blood rush in between her legs at that wink, and pulled him in for a kiss, ready for the lessons portion of the evening to be over.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She awoke in his arms, again. It was becoming a concerning habit, and as usual, he was up before her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you thinking about?” she asked blearily. “You’re staring at me all creepy-like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snorted. She’d never believe where his mind was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t believe where his mind was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he’d woken, with her next him, considering for perhaps the first time how unfair life really was. She made him irrational, he realized. What he was about to propose was utterly ridiculous, even for him. His crimes were done in the dark, behind computer screens and aliases, and were never really all that bad, right? His thoughts now… they were dangerous. Maybe her effect on him was dangerous. But they could pull it off, couldn't they? And then she could relax. He’d keep teaching her, and maye, just maybe… there was something real here. Maybe if she wasn’t so burdened, she’d relax about everything; about him, too. He wasn’t undiscerning. He knew she seemed to hold him at arm’s length. Maybe she could want more with him, or maybe she’d warm up more, if she wasn’t so tired and overworked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He realized he was still staring, and had yet to answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. But to answer your question… I was thinking about your money situation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She groaned, sitting up, holding the deep burgundy sheet across her chest. What a topic to bring up first thing in the morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Her tone was slightly irritated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes sparkled, all of a sudden. Nervous excitement tinged his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I think we should rob this fucking bank.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” she asked, incredulous. “More ATMs?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean, let's really do it. I want… I want you out of this situation. I want you out of that shitty diner if you want. We’ll get in, get out, erase the footage𑁋 not so different from the ATMs, but a much bigger haul. They’ll never even know we were there. Trust me, the manager there deserves it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was sitting stock still all of a sudden, mouth hanging open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re crazy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>you teach me, everything we do has been about how careful you are, how you operate under the radar. How unlikely it is we’d get caught because you stay small.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just this once, we’ll do it. And it’s still small-scale enough to work,” he insisted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t, Ben. What if we got caught?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you can’t, then let me give you the money to pay off what Plutt stole from you, and while we’re at it, your student loans, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She made a face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, no. That’s gross.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can make enough for that easy, with two pentests. You know I can.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you are already graciously giving me free fucking lessons, Ben,” she said, her voice raising a touch. “So that one day I’ll be good enough to make that on my own.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And one day soon, if you keep at it. But let’s do this. Wouldn’t you rather keep at it and finish school and get to sleep at night too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, the thrill in his voice seeping into her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I𑁋”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do this. Let’s fuck this guy over. He’s a prick, and doing any legit work for him hasn’t panned out, so he’s asking for it.” The cadence of his voice, the short sentences𑁋 it was all a rising crescendo that rose to knock her disbelief right out of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said, the slightest waver in her pitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, okay. Let’s do this. But I swear to fucking God if there is one if I end up in jail because of you, I’ll haunt you and bite your dick off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of his rare smiles broke free.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll haunt me? From jail? Wouldn't haunting me be from hell?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll figure something out. For all I know, I’ll end up in both before long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached out and gently laid his hand on her thigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t get you arrested. Trust me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why, but I do,” she sighed, staring into his eyes. She laid back down, fingering the old gold medallion that was always around her neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben took it from her hand and studied it, both of them propped up on one elbow, mirrors of the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is this? Why do you always have it on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a… family heirloom, I guess you could say? I had it when I was put into the system. This and a book and a toy were all I had.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” he said thoughtfully, reading the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>Erso</span>
  </em>
  <span> inscripted on the back. He sensed her discomfort at the subject change.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It looks beautiful on you. Right here… between these,” he said softly, placing the length of the long chain between her breasts and eliciting a giggle from her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now,”𑁋 he bent over and kissed her forehead𑁋, “let's plan a fucking heist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The anticipation leading up to the night they’d chosen was going to kill her, she was sure. She’d been unable to sit still, whereas Ben infuriatingly maintained his calm demeanor throughout his detailed explanation of their plans earlier in the day. She paced up and down his living room, pulling away from any attempt he made to soothe her. She needed the mixture of nervousness and excitement to carry her through. He discussed the floor plan of the bank, the way the vault security worked, and how his friend Poe would be monitoring the cameras, particularly the external ones. That way he’d be able to forewarn them of anything, assuring her they’d delete the footage immediately after.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At 2:30 a.m. they approached the bank from the wooded area that separated it from another parking lot. She’d thought they’d want to be closer, to provide a quicker get away, but he’d insisted that with all security measures turned off, it was better not to have a car in sight of the bank’s parking lot, just in case someone drove by and thought it was suspicious. He had no intention of being discovered by either a busy body </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span> a patrol cop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d also wondered why the bank didn’t have a security guard at night, and he’d laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because they are too expensive, cause more likelihood of escalation, and the bank is relying on its security systems𑁋 which we’ve shut off𑁋 and their insurance, which they have to pay for. They’ll get back everything we steal. It’s a victimless crime, if you will. Banks aren’t going to spend money on an overnight salary if they don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” was all she’d replied, never stopping her pacing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being a part of a heist didn’t feel at all like the highly polished, glamorous movie versions, or the violent, running-in-with-guns-blazing-during-the-day action movies either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, they were simply walking up to a tiny neighborhood bank branch in the middle of their shitty little suburb, sticking to shadows and dressed in all black, of course.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s heart sped up as Ben’s hand gripped the handle of the employee entrance door. Neither of them breathed just for a moment, and then he pulled it open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No alarms blaring, no locks engaging. No one was monitoring to discover he’d turned everything off, and no one was any the wiser.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked back at her, and their eyes met, the nervousness morphing for the millionth time into a sort of high, the slightest nod from the both of them that said, ‘yes, we are doing this.’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then they stole away into the bank, Rey easing the door shut behind her silently, though there was no one around to hear it should she let it slam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was dark and eerie inside, a ghost of the activity that took place during the day. Ben grabbed Rey’s hand, and she found she didn’t mind it, as he moved quickly towards the vault, his much longer legs dragging her behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They reached the door to the vault, which had two locks that had to be opened with separate codes at the same time; codes that Ben had easily lifted since he’d been observing the bank employee’s workstations and the internal cameras for a number of weeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blood coursed through Rey as she punched in her code. She didn’t spare Ben a glance, focused as she was. They heard the slight click of the bars releasing, and Ben swung the door open with a wolfish grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside the vault, a glorified closet really, they ignored the safety deposit boxes that harbored personal possession and papers, heading straight for where they knew the nearly $50,000 in bills should be stored. This was, still, a small amount form a small bank, but an amount that Rey knew would undoubtedly change her life. She’d never felt free and in charge of her life. Foster care gave one no control; Plutt took away any freedom adulthood should have gained her. She could almost taste the idea of freedom on her tongue, and it was what had truly been fueling her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crammed her bag full of money, her hands shaking slightly. She felt Ben lean in behind her; whispering in her ear to relax and enjoy it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she bent over to stuff the last of the cash and zip closed her black duffle, her hips pushed into his and he grabbed her side. His enormity made the vault feel even smaller.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look sexy, by the way,” he remarked. Her knee high black boots cemented the look for him. With them she had chosen tight black leggings, good for running should she need to, and a black long sleeved shirt that hugged her perfectly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes at him, unaware he was trying to get her to relax.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, but let’s get out of here before something bad happens.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She straightened up to turn around, but he caged her in against the cold metal drawers that made up the walls of the sterile feeling vault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing bad is going to happen. Remember, Poe is watching. And everything will be deleted. And not a soul else knows we are here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She blanched momentarily, somehow forgetting they’d been being watched by his friend, someone she’d never even met, followed by her face flaming at the fact that she’d ground her hips back into him even as she’d told him they should leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ben! You have a friend watching us and you are…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand wound up around her throat, pulling her up abruptly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m what? Enjoying our little outing? He’s watching mostly the outside cameras anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tingled all over and a mixture of butterflies and heat threaded through her stomach as he tightened his hold. She could feel the chain of her necklace pressing uncomfortably into the tender skin of her neck, accidentally drawn up by his too-large, glove covered hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ben, we shouldn’t....”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed, fingers relaxing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, if you are sure...”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached his free up hand to cup one breast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you are sure you don’t want to be able to say you fucked in a bank vault while somebody watched, then we’ll leave.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed back against him again; she just couldn’t help it. Her body seemed to betray her rational thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dammit, Ben, I swear to God if you get me fucking arrested because we stayed and fucked around,” she hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry. Remember, we’re being watched. We’d know if someone was coming,” he breathed in her ear. “Now, tell me, how much do you want him to see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know. Now answer the question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t believe how much he’d changed in the weeks since they’d been seeing each other. Gone was the shy man who’d been unsure of himself their first time together. He’d been progressively more comfortable with her, and she didn’t think she’d ever get enough, because it was like they were headed towards a climax together, the end point not yet in sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I… want him to see me. I want him to wish it was him fucking me, but instead it’s you, because you are the only man I’ll allow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had no idea where the words were coming from, but she was drunk on everything about this night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben turned his head slightly, showing her the corner where the camera was directed straight at them, and she took his meaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stepped out of the way, leaving one hand gripping her hip to hold her in place while the other palm pushed her down, placed flat against her shoulder blades. She felt her calves and thighs getting a much needed stretch from their spread position, an upside down V, and before she knew it, he’d pulled her leggings down, her entire ass on display for him and the camera both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He dipped a finger inside with no warning, and then another; and she’d never felt the texture of a leather glove there before, the extra fabric making his fingers stretch her more than she’d been expecting. She pushed into the feeling, too turned on to worry about how wanton she must look, already seeking release before they’d really even started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let out an amused sound as he made a show of spreading her lips and sliding his fingers in and out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s coming, babe. Impatient, aren’t you?  I thought you wanted Poe to see.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt another rush in between her legs at his words, but all she told him was to hurry the fuck up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d pulled himself free while she’d relished in just the feeling of his fingers and the noise of his hips slapping against hers replaced the small gasps she’d been making against the silence of the empty building.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then she forgot about the camera. She forgot about the bank, the vault, the robbery, the money she owed, the shitty diner she worked at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She only thought about him, and how she felt when he surrounded her and took her over, and how an orgasm was building within her if she could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>get there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He must have read her mind, because his fingers were on her clit, rubbing circles that felt like they might be too much for her to stand the feeling of. They had been before; sometimes she retreated when a feeling was too much, unwilling to let herself go with some random guy she didn’t really trust; but nothing about him made her feel that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pushed her to her limits, and made her want more out of everything, and just when she thought she might push his hand away, she crested and he followed. A grunt in her ear, his arm wrapped around her holding her into him, him catching his breath, the aftershocks ricocheting. She’d been telling him to hurry up, but now it was over too soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We really should get out of here now,” he said, a laugh in her ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She came back to herself, pulling her leggings up, and turning to face him. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes, and he kissed her suddenly then; the kind of kiss that should come from the buildup of passion </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’d finished. The kind of kiss she didn’t think happened all that much. The kind she’d secretly longed for, and she met him back full force.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then they left; leaving almost everything exactly as they had found it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>******</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My necklace! It’s gone!” she said, a panicky pitch to her voice he hadn’t heard before. Oh my god. I must have lost it. At the bank! Ben, what if it’s at the bank?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben tensed, but his brain worked methodically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything in the inscription that ties it to you? You showed it to me that once, when I asked. It was just initials?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I think it has my mother’s last name on it𑁋 Erso. It’s an unusual name. I don’t even know what it means, I’ve never been able to find out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s okay. It’s just a name. And you go by what? Your father’s name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I assume,” she said, her entire being deflating as she looked down, trying to hide her tears from him. “I just know the names don’t match. I don’t know why I was given what. It was the only thing I had from her. The only thing. How could it have fallen off?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was pacing his living room again now, distraught, and pulling her jacket back on her shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to look for it!” she snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t go back to the bank.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She spun around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that! I𑁋 I’m going to retrace everything else I did today. Maybe it… maybe it was earlier. Maybe it’s on campus. Or at my place. Maybe… maybe I just didn’t notice until now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She moved toward his front door again, but he caught her sleeve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey, please. Don’t look for it. You… you were wearing it at the bank. I remember. It’s no use.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Realization dawned on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand around her throat, delicate, him behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d felt his hand around it, it had slightly cut in her skin, but she hadn’t cared. Not at the time. Not with the way they were caught up in each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked up at him blearily, uselessly fingering her collarbone, as if it would appear on her neck and they’d both just somehow not seen it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, Rey, I’m so so sorry. I swear. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll do anything you want to replace it,” he said helplessly, knowing it was irreplaceable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled her to him, and she melted into him for a moment; but just one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stepped back, swiping at her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a stupid necklace. I don’t even know what it means. I don’t need another one, and it’s not your fault. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watched helplessly as she closed the walls around the flood of despair as best she could. She wouldn’t cry over something so small.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! Because what the fuck am I doing? Anyway, I've been reading about bank vaults, and doors, and security, and let's just pretend this is entirely realistic. I mean, it kind of is. I personally know a pentester who broke into a credit union's ATMs and security systems bc of an employee silly enough to have a terrible password, and a really old operating system. He was being paid to do it legit, ofc. So idk....... I'm not sure it's that farfetched. This bank is existing somewhere between outdated and modern.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The hacking fic that will tell us where it wants to go. Unlike the last multichapter I wrote, I don't have it half written or entirely planned out, but I'm trying to motivate myself.</p><p>So, hopefully this is made clear - Ben Solo is an ethical hacker that runs penetration testing and presents reports to companies so that they may secure their networks and be PCI Compliant. Kylo Ren is a not-so-ethical hacker that exploits those same companies.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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